Legend
by Bad Mittens
Summary: In a Hyrule that has lost its sense of unity, a young warrior embarks on a quest to save his home and the people he loves. He soon finds himself entangled in a conflict that has raged since the beginning of time. The true enemy, however, is lost in the confusion, and eventually the warrior must decide if he is really the hero this land needs.
1. Hellfire

Author's Note

You can skip right to the interesting stuff, but if you want to know what to expect from this story, I suggest you read this.

I've always wondered if the Zelda series would make a decent book. I'm assuming most of you reading this would say, "yes", but if you want my honest opinion, I don't think it would. Now, please don't get me wrong—I love Zelda. The Zelda franchise is my favorite video game franchise, and on the rare occasion that a new Zelda game is released or announced, I become the happiest guy on the planet (looking at you, _Breath of the Wild_ ). Nevertheless, Zelda doesn't seem like the best fiction fodder.

Think about the premise of Zelda games. It can really be summed up in a sentence: "A young warrior battles an evil king with a magic sword in hopes of saving a prophetic princess." In all honesty, that's not a special plot; actually, it's pretty boring. To be fair, that sentence doesn't sum up all Zelda games. It doesn't capture the nostalgia of the classics like _Ocarina of Time_ and _Wind Waker_ , but that is essentially the premise in a nutshell. Ladies and gentlemen, as much as we love Zelda, I do think many of us are getting tired of this trite formula.

Therefore, what I am attempting to write is a new direction for the Zelda series. Since Nintendo has clearly no plans of making a darker Zelda game anytime in the foreseeable future, this story will be dark (although probably not enough to garner an M rating). It will be removed of all prophecies, black and white good versus evil, monogamous cultures, time-looped curses, desperate damsels-in-distress, and most importantly, water temples. I will do my best to incorporate nostalgic elements of the Zelda games with as few OCs as I can and to respect the original personalities of fan-favorite characters. Above all, I will not be restricting myself to the confines of the Hyrule Historia. This story takes place all on its own, in a completely different Hyrule.

That's a lot to promise and commit to. I will do my best. When or whether or I publish new chapters depends on my readers' demand for more content. If you want to see more, please let me know in the comments or via PM.

Sincerely,

Bad Mittens

* * *

 **LEGEND**

 _Chapter 1: Hellfire_

It was snowing the day the forest burned down, and not even the coldest winds could purge those flames. Link remembered when the soldiers arrived, clad in glimmering sets of steel plate and armed to the teeth with spears, shields, and swords. He admired them, in a way. No one from the outside had dared to set foot in the forest for over a year. The first assault had been a slaughter; there was no contesting the sheer might of nature against the fragility of man. Perhaps the soldiers had not been expecting such a retaliation; an army of two hundred men marched into the forest with no attention to their flanks. Before they could reach the village, gohma had torn apart the entire brigade. A few hundred managed to flee back to their base of operations just outside the forest, but the gohma followed them back and wiped out the rest of their numbers. They had not returned since that day. Link once asked the Great Deku Tree what warranted such ruthlessness.

"If only you could see the destruction they bring, then you would not place such mercy on Hyrule."

The Deku Tree called it mercy, but there was nothing to indicate how Link felt about the world beyond the forest. For as long as he could remember, the Lost Woods had been his home, and the people who lived in the confines and safety of its trees were his family. Nature provided everything they needed: fertile soil to grow crops, plentiful trees to make houses, and enough water to last until the end of days. The concept of Hyrule, on the other hand, baffled Link.

"Their capital is a sprawl," the Great Deku Tree told him, "thousands of people live there, cowering behind walls of stone and hard clay. Every corner stinks of urine and feces; those lucky enough to have inherited their wealth live on plantations and ranches outside the city."

"What makes those lucky few so wealthy?" Link asked.

"Their wealth comes from their land," the Deku Tree said, "of which there is little left in Hyrule. So they have come here, to take ours."

Link had never heard the Deku Tree speak fondly of Hyrule or its people, who he called "Hylians". To Link's own knowledge, the Hylians weren't so different from his own people, the Kokiri. Years ago, Hylians used to wander along the outskirts of the forest to chop trees or pick berries. Before the Deku Tree ordered the outskirts off-limits to all Kokiri and sent gohma to attack the outskirt settlements, Link would wander and watch the Hylians. Sure, they were taller, had more hair, and their voices were much deeper, but they had the same long ears, the same fair skin, and they all spoke the same vernacular. The similarities outweighed the differences.

"Why do they look like us?" It was five years ago when he asked the Deku Tree that question. Silence followed his words, and then the towering, old deity did something it had never done before: it hesitated.

"That question merits an answer," the tree eventually said, "but you must understand that there are some questions I cannot answer, for such action would endanger you and the rest of the Kokiri."

"You've always answered my questions. Why is this one any different?" He felt especially daring that day.

"Because it is, child!" The Deku Tree's voice was booming; it shook the trees and sent birds scrambling from their nests. "The Hylians are a sick, distressed race. Their bodies are as glass-thin as their souls. No matter what meager existence they choose to live, they all die the same slow death."

Although the knowledge of the Great Deku Tree had always enthralled Link, listening to that ancient tree's words was never the same from that day forward. He feared that he would ask the wrong questions—questions without answers. It was not the Deku Tree's wrath that frightened him; after all, he knew what was at stake. The Lost Woods needed a protector to serve its creatures. It needed an unbiased, unprejudiced judge who would secure the forest's borders and put its collective needs above the standalone. Link did not know how long the Great Deku Tree had reigned over the forest. He never asked, and he did not care. Its sap sustained the immortality of the trees, the deathlessness of the forest animals, and the youth of the Kokiri and himself. Whether it had reigned a hundred years or ten hundred years, the Great Deku Tree was the rightful ruler of the Lost Woods. None questioned its authority.

What scared Link was the lack of _knowing_. He had lived in the forest for years (so many that he stopped counting) and had never set foot in the outside world. Sometimes, when he visited the Great Deku Tree, he'd climb his way to the top of its trunk and run along its branches so he could look out over the sea of green. To the east, snowcapped mountains peaked in the distance, begging to be climbed. They were dominated by a dormant volcano—one that had not erupted for tens of thousands of years. To the west was a lake so wide that he couldn't see its far shore. The Great Deku Tree said it was home to a race of mer-people, but he still forbade the Kokiri from going anywhere near its beaches. Then there was the north, and beyond the outskirts where the Hylians used to settle were brown plains.

"What makes those grasslands brown?" He asked the Deku Tree one evening as he laid in the arms of its branches. The leaves brushed his face, lulling him toward slumber. Taking its last dive over the horizon, the late-day sun painted the world orange and pink.

"Farming makes it that way," the smooth bark cooed, "it can abuse the soil, rendering it sterile. The product is what you see there: grass touched by the scorch-marks of flame. So is the mark of the Hylian."

Flame—it awoke Link a few days after the first snowfall. A cloud of smoke had enveloped his treehouse and weaved through it like a cancerous snake. Although it had been winter for over a week, the air was hot and dry and it burned Link's eyes. As he threw off his covers and jumped out of bed, he inhaled the smoke; his lungs convulsed and that was when the coughing began. They quickly broke Link into a fit, and he dropped to the floor, throat heaving and ready to vomit. Everything seemed to blend together; it felt like a dream, but the more he coughed the less he doubted that this was just another one of his nightmares.

He could hear someone shouting just outside of his house, but there was so much black that he couldn't even see his front door.

"Link!" The voice shouted, "Link! LINK! Come on, get out of there!" It was Saria.

"Saria!" He yelled as loud as he could. Another coughing fit arose from his throat but he choked it down. "I'm coming!"

He kept low and tried to crawl beneath the smoke as best he could. Gradually, he slinked his way over to his wardrobe and threw open the single door. He managed to grab his fur coat, sword, and shield just as a figure dashed through the front door and pulled him out of the house.

"You idiot!" The figure shouted, who was not Saria. He threw Link down onto the snow. The cold pleasured his cheeks. "That garbage is not worth your life!" It was Mido, without a doubt.

"Oh thank Farore," Saria said, kneeling down and taking Link's head into her lap.

Coughing and clutching his belongings, Link looked up to see his green-haired friend brushing the ash from his scalp and the sides of his face. She caught his gaze and smiled down at him. He smiled back. Voices sighed, and Link sat up to see Mido and a group of Kokiri dressed in their fur coats. A bonfire blazed over Link's house, and he flinched. He and Saria had built that house themselves just a few months before. The bonfire swallowed the fresh kindling on his rooftop before the entire roof crackled and caved in. Heads turned to watch it burn.

"Come on everyone," said Mido, "unless you want to choke on all of this ash. That means you two as well."

Link nodded, and Saria helped him off the ground. As he staggered on his feet, he came to his senses and saw the flames surrounding the village. The air was much colder outside of the house, but it smelled completely of ash. Smoldering ruins of houses and shops still flickered with sparks of red, orange, and yellow. Others had only just begun to ignite; their ashes swirled up into the high trees and dried out the crisp, winter air. It was snowing, but most of the flakes melted before they could reach the ground.

"What happened?" Link asked. He tied the fur coat around his neck.

"We don't know," Saria told him. She held tightly onto Link's arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I just remember waking up to someone screaming 'fire, fire'. Mido says he doesn't know how they started. They just appeared… out of nowhere."

Strapping the sword around his waist and the shield over his back, Link found himself hesitating to ask the next question: "Did everyone make it out of their houses?"

Saria blinked and grounded her lips together. "The fires trapped a few. There was nothing any of us could do."

Throughout all of his years of living in the forest, Link only had to attend one funeral. Some stubborn, stupid kids were exploring too close to where the gohma nested: in the deep south where the grass turned to poisonous bog. A young boy them had been especially stupid enough to taunt a gohma worker who had wandered from his post. The beast grew aggressive when the taunts persisted, and it kicked the boy into the swamp. By the time the rest of the kids had pulled him out, the toxins in the water had eaten away at his flesh and bones. It took him a few hours to finally pass away. After the funeral, the Great Deku Tree threatened exile to anyone who crossed into gohma territory; the rest of the Kokiri were left with an ugly reminder of how caution and collective wisdom could save a life.

Yet no degree of caution and collective wisdom could have saved those Kokiri from suffocating in the flames and smoke of their own homes. No one could have predicted any of this. Link knew this could not be the silly, accidental wrongdoings of someone who didn't know any better. This had to be deliberate, and only one group would have the motivation to do something as horrible as this.

"We have to get to the Great Deku Tree," said Link. He threw his arm around Saria and began following the rest of the Kokiri out of the village.

"I know," Saria told him, keeping pace, "there isn't anywhere safer in the whole forest."

The Kokiri condensed into a line as they made their way through the Lost Woods to where the Deku Tree grew. Glimmers of flame vanished behind the trunks of trees, and darkness returned to the forest. Their line formed a makeshift path through the foliage; Kokiri quite literally followed in the footsteps of those in front of them. The scent of the smoke was distant now, but Link's chronic coughs had evolved into a throbbing headache. He kept himself hydrated by eating the snow off the path while Saria treated his forehead with ice she had stuffed into her water satchel.

"I can count how many of us there are," she said, holding the satchel against Link's head, "we've lived with the same people for years and I've gotten to know almost all of them by name. I know which ones are missing."

"Then I'm sure there are others that need your help," Link said, "I know I'm your friend but I can handle myself."

"Oh don't try to talk yourself out of this one, Link." Saria raised her eyebrows and grinned at him. "Besides, it helps me maintain my distance from Mido. You're like a thorn in his side."

"Well, that's for sure. I wonder why he saved me."

Saria's smile dimmed and her eyes returned to the path. "I know why. In spite of how much you annoy him, he knows that we need you. We all need each other now—more than ever."

They soon reached the place where the forest floor dipped down into a narrow ravine. The Kokiri line thinned to account for the lack of space, forcing Link and Saria to temporarily separate. The slope of the ravine steepened as it went deeper and deeper. Link looked up and saw the roots of trees breaking through the canyon, brushed with newly-fallen snow.

The ravine eventually stopped its descent and opened up into what appeared to be a mile-wide crater. Saria returned to Link's side as they both stared up at the immense body of the Great Deku Tree dominating the center of the crater. Link could barely see the bottoms of its lower branches; the rest of its snow-covered crown of leaves vanished into the light flurry veiling the night sky. No matter how many times he saw that tree, its size never ceased to amaze him. The voices and movements of the Kokiri echoed throughout the crater as they funneled out of the ravine.

As soon as everyone was out and huddled together, Mido stepped forward from the group and looked out among all of them. He was, for all intents and purposes, the leader of the Kokiri, chosen by the Great Deku Tree itself. Sure, he and Link had their squabbles from time to time, but Link always respected Mido's leadership and guidance, although the Deku Tree far surpassed their own intellects.

Pivoting toward the tree, he called out, "Great Deku Tree! We have come to seek asylum. Our village has suffered a great calamity; fires engulf our homes and have taken the lives of some of our dearest friends. Are you aware of what caused these fires?"

Mido's voice carried off to the far ends of the crater and came back. A response was not instantaneous. It left the crowd tense, including Mido himself who stood blankly in front of his peers with his red hair and coat flailing in the frigid wind.

Then the response came: it was long, creaky, and indiscernible, but it was the Deku Tree, for sure. Instead of sending a message, it seemed to just vibrate the ears and rattle the trees. Even Link could not tell what the Deku Tree was saying. More silence followed.

"Great Deku Tree," said Mido, calm but loud, "I—I do not understand."

The same response came, only louder. Link's ears perked up as he recognized the word—a single word that the Deku Tree had uttered. All the times he listened to it speak, the Great Deku Tree spoke in full sentences and sometimes monologues; because it rarely only said one or two words, such speech did not even register.

And that word was a frightening one; it sent a chill down his spine and his headache screaming away into the night.

" _Run."_

The crater exploded and flames surged into the sky as a shockwave broke through the air and threw everyone against the ground. Link's body flipped through the air and then again through the snow until he hit the high cliff face at the edge of the crater. He lifted up his hands as rocks and snow tumbled down the incline. Several sharp rocks cut through the leg of his pants and gouged into his skin. He had flown far away from the rest of the Kokiri, who were now screaming and cowering as they watched a white-hot crevice tear its way through the earth.

Fire that danced made its way out of the crevice and emitted a heat wave so strong that it caused Link to sweat on contact. He tried to push himself out of the rubble, but then another shockwave came with an even stronger heat wave, shaking more rocks from the top of the crater. They all piled on Link, and he felt the bones in his leg snap under their weight. More fire snaked its way out of the crevice.

"Link!" yelled Saria. He couldn't see where she was. "Link, where are—"

Another shockwave interrupted her speech, letting loose a long stream of dirt that entombed Link's legs, torso, and seeped into the nostrils of his nose. His vision and consciousness were beginning to fade, but before they could, a stream of viscous magma erupted out of the crevice, shaking him wide-awake. Link thought he was seeing things as the lava piled and solidified into an unnatural form—a humanoid form. When it had finished, a figure stood in front of the crevice. The figure stood at a height of at least twelve feet; its skin was scaly and rock-encrusted, and atop its head flowed a fulgurating mane of fire. Link couldn't see its visage; it faced away from him, towards the Great Deku Tree.

He heard it saying something to the Deku Tree, but his ears had phased out almost all noise. His eyelids were beginning to fail him, and fatigue battered his entire body. The last thing he saw before completely giving into the dark was the figure arching back one of its hands and letting loose a red-orange torrent that bathed the Deku Tree in flame.

Link didn't know how long he was out, but when he awoke, that's when he saw them: soldiers, clad in their glimmering sets of steel plate and armed to the teeth with spears, shields, and swords. They were Hylian soldiers—there was no denying it. He watched helplessly as they lifted the motionless bodies of his fellow Kokiri onto horseback and rode back up the ravine into the Lost Woods. He assumed Saria and Mido were among those taken, and he was soon left alone in the crater, buried under natural debris, in the shadow of the Great Deku Tree's charred corpse.


	2. Teatime

Author's Note

I got some good feedback on the first chapter, so thank you to those who took the time to give me your two cents. I am ALWAYS open to constructive criticism; in fact, I encourage it. Seeing new followers to the story also gets my hopes up, and it motivates me to write more content. Overall, I'm going to try and write at least 3,000 words per chapter, but I will not promise any routine for posting new chapters. I made that mistake in the past and had difficulty keeping to my promises. That puts a lot of pressure on me (especially since this isn't my job or my first priority), but more importantly I don't want to let down the people who are waiting for stuff to come out on time.

Thanks again to everyone for your support. Enjoy chapter 2.

Sincerely,

Bad Mittens

* * *

 _Chapter 2: Teatime_

As Link regained his senses, he saw fire once again. His immediate response was to jump away, but as he took in his surroundings, he realized that rocks and dirt no longer hindered his movements. Someone had pulled him from the rubble and wrapped the lower-half of his body in a layer of blankets. The fire that had frightened him was not raging; it was just a small bonfire, encircled by stones and feeding on a bundle of logs and sticks. A skewer rotated just over the flames, braising what looked like two chunks of meat. Nighttime and snow still dominated the sky, and Link noticed he was directly below the charred remains of the Great Deku Tree. Memories of the dancing inferno rushed back.

"You were out for a day," a soft voice said. On the other side of the fire sat a tall man in a fur coat. Link was still waking up and couldn't make out his face. "But I assure you, you have healed quite nicely."

"Who," Link began, only to realize that he had a sore throat. He cleared it as best as he could and rubbed his neck.

"… who am I?" The man paused and then let out the strangest laugh Link had ever heard. It was soft and sounded like "ho, ho, ho". "A peddler, on one hand. However, I really do love traveling. I would travel the world if I could, but alas, my other calling prevents me from doing just that."

The man stood up and walked over to where Link was laying. He had a funny stride; the upper half of his body slouched forward, and his feet curved out at wide angles. Even with such bad posture, he was at least half a foot taller than Link. As the tall man knelt in front of the fire and leaned in, Link finally got a good look at his face. He had very high cheekbones and a pair of reedy, blue eyes. His skin was pale—almost as pale as the snow, and the fire amplified the auburn glow of his hair. In spite of his mystifying features, Link wondered if he was from Hyrule.

"I am the Happy Mask Salesman," he said, offering a hand to Link and smiling wide, "pleased to meet your acquaintance."

Link wondered if he had an actual name but decided not to ask. "Pleased to—ahem—pleased to meet you. I'm Link." It hurt to talk, but he had more pressing matters to worry about. They shook hands.

"Link." The Mask Salesman chuckled again. "What a fine name! I assume, Link, that you must be hungry? Not eating for twenty-four hours does leave an insatiable hole in one's belly. You can have both of those fine specimens if you'd like." He pointed at the skewer.

Food had been the last thing on Link's mind when he woke up, but as he looked at the meat roasting over the fire, he had to take the offer.

"Thank you," he said, trying to smile. In truth, this Happy Mask Salesman creeped him out just as much as he made him comfortable. It was an unusual mix of emotions.

"Excellent," the salesman said. He got up and went over to the other side of the fire, where Link noticed an obscenely huge haversack sitting upright against a log. Masks adorned every square inch of the pack. "I'll fix you some tea as well. No doubt your throat must be raw."

Link's hand went to his throat again. "How—ahem—how did you know?"

"Side effects of your treatment, I'm afraid." The salesman untied the top of the haversack and began rummaging through it. "But it'll go away soon. Believe me, I'd rather have a sore throat than a broken leg."

Link's pupils dilated as he remembered the moment his leg shattered. Beneath the covers, he shook both legs and realized that neither of them were broken. The Happy Mask Salesman chuckled and pulled a pressure cooker from the haversack. He filled the pressure cooker with snow and some leaves from his pocket, and then he hung it on the skewer.

"H-how," Link said, at a loss for words, "how did you fix my leg?"

"Here," said the Mask Salesman, breaking off a piece of meat from the skewer and handing it to Link, "this should take the edge off your hunger." The question was ignored.

Nodding, Link took the cooked flesh in both his hands. It smelled like smoke, and Link was once again taken back to the night before. He saw his village going up in a blaze, his friends being carried away on horseback, and that awful monster breathing flame on the Great Deku Tree. A log in the bonfire crackled, and Link snapped back to reality. The Mask Salesman was watching him.

"Is everything all right?" He asked.

"No, not really," Link said, avoiding eye contact. He bit into the meat and blinked as he realized it was partially burnt. Turning down a meal didn't seem like an option at this point—although it hurt to swallow—so he just kept eating.

"May I then ask…" The Mask Salesman looked around the crater and stared up at the blackened trunk of the Great Deku Tree. "… what happened here?"

Link continued to eat as he thought of what to say. Giving away everything didn't seem appropriate, but on the other hand, there wasn't much to hide. He had just been orphaned; his home was a pile of burnt debris, and only Farore knew where his friends had gone. If he didn't start trusting people, then there was no chance of seeing anything familiar again.

Those Hylian soldiers thundered back into his thoughts, and suddenly, he wondered: was this Happy Mask Salesman a spy, sent to lull him into a false sense of security? It would explain his calm demeanor, and Link couldn't help but feel that something was wrong about him. The tall man had his back turned. One of Link's hands drifted away from the meat and felt around for his sword in the snow, only to find nothing. He felt completely defenseless.

"You're afraid of something," the Happy Mask Salesman said, shifting around. His eyes shimmered, and he wore a shallow frown. "I can promise that you have nothing to fear from me."

"Are you sure?" Link asked, almost immediately, "because after seeing my home and everything I love burned to the ground, there isn't much I can have faith in."

Link found himself telling the entire story from beginning to end. He told the Happy Mask Salesman about the Great Deku Tree and its endless waterfall of knowledge. He told him about his people, the Kokiri, and what picturesque lives they had lived in the Lost Woods. He told him about the Hylians and how they envied the forest. He told him about the night before when he awoke, covered in ash and choking on smoke. And then he told him about the man made of fire and the death of his beloved tree. When all had been said, Link dove back into his meal with tears streaming down his cheeks.

There was silence for a moment, and then the Mask Salesman asked: "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Link answered anyway. "Yes," he said.

"And what will you do about it?" That next question took Link by surprise. He stopped eating and thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure. The forest is still here, but the things that made it my home are gone. My friends—no, my family—I have no idea where they are."

"Ah, but you do, don't you, Link?"

The salesman was right. There was only one place they could be: in that huge bastion at the center of Hyrule's sprawling capital.

"It is called Hyrule Castle," the Deku Tree had told him, "from a far glance, it is truly a magnificent work of man, but in nearing one can see the imperfection in its stones—stones cast by forced labor. Its towers touch the heavens, but it is not a divine structure in any sense of the term. A vast jailhouse spreads throughout the underhell of the castle; the ruler of the Hylians—their king—enslaved a desert people in the west and had them build it long ago. I may have my disagreements with the Hylian people, but those folk of the far west have even fairer reasons to scorn the Hylians and their culture."

If Saria, Mido, and the others were still alive, they would have to be in that castle. He had an pressing urge to grab his gear, head out of the forest, and head right to the front door of Hyrule Castle, but he knew he stood no chance against an entire legion of Hylian troops. A mere two hundred had invaded the forest a decade back; the Deku Tree said that was merely a fraction of their army. If he planned on rescuing his friends, he was going to need more than just a little help.

"I need to get to the Deku Palace," said Link, "there isn't much I can do by myself, and I still don't have a good picture of what's going on. The Deku scrubs might have a better idea. Then maybe I'll go visit the Great Fairy."

The Happy Mask Salesman let out another brief chuckle. "I think you would surprise yourself, child," he said, "One tends to severely depreciate his own individual talent, yet you are right to seek help in this situation."

Link nodded and took one last bite of the meat before throwing the bones into the fire. He watched the rest of the fat burn off as he tried to lay out the rest of his plan. His thoughts slowly drifted back to the Happy Mask Salesman, who he had been ignoring for the past few minutes. There were still a few questions that needed answers.

"Why did you help me?" he asked.

The Mask Salesman shrugged the shoulders of his fur coat. "Random acts of kindness, perhaps?" he said. "Does a gesture of geniality ever warrant a reason? People in this land have been hurting and destroying each other for thousands of years, and I've lived through a lot of it. We don't need more bystanders; we need heroes."

Link had been so overwhelmed by the monologue that he found himself just staring at the Happy Mask Salesman. The tall man smirked and let another one of his "ho, ho, ho" laughs. He removed the pressure cooker from the skewer and placed it on the snow next to Link. Steam sizzled from beneath the cooker.

"Now," said the Happy Mask Salesman, "the most important question I will ask you tonight." He put his hands behind his back, and Link breathed in heavily. "Cats or dogs?"

The Happy Mask Salesman pulled out two tankards from behind his back. Both were adorned with stencil drawings. One tankard had a cat and the other tankard had a dog. Link thought for a moment; the choice caught him off-guard.

"Dogs," he eventually said. Dogs reminded him of wolves, and he always had a fascination with wolves.

"Interesting," said the Happy Mask Salesman, grinning widely. He handed Link the tankard with the dog and filled it with tea from the pressure cooker.

Putting the tankard beneath his nose, Link breathed in and smelled oranges. The scent was warm and smooth and a lot more pleasant than that half-burnt hunk of meat. He took a shallow sip from the tankard. It was the perfect temperature, and it soothed the irritation in his throat. Sleep seemed to call out to him distantly, yet he decided that he had slept enough that day.

"You see," said the Salesman, sitting cross-legged in the snow next to Link, "something as simple as choosing one drawing over the other says a lot about a person. Cats are certainly wonderful creatures, but they prefer to live a solitary lifestyle. They hunt alone, eat alone, sleep alone. Unless they have grown up with other cats or in the care of a loving family, they lead a mostly independent existence. Dogs, on the other hand, enjoy a social atmosphere. Long spans of time without intimate contact can leave lasting effects on their growth and stability."

"I can relate," said Link.

"Exactly. And that's why you picked the dog."

Link sipped his tea to give himself time to think. "I don't think I could ever live alone. Even now, I'm already feeling empty. I used to go see the Great Deku Tree with all my questions, but now I can't. I used to go see Saria whenever I wanted to take a walk in the woods, but now I have to take those walks alone. It really gets me wondering: how much of this forest have I taken for granted?"

The Happy Mask Salesman pursed his lips. "You seem to me like someone who enjoys reminiscing the past. There's nothing wrong with that. Just be careful you don't live in it. That's how grudges are formed, and I don't just mean grudges with other people—I also mean grudges with yourself."

He poked Link in the chest with one of his long fingers and stood up. Link watched him walk over to the haversack and open the top. The curiosity at this point was just unbearable.

"Who are you really?" Link asked, "and what are you doing in the Lost Woods?"

The words hung in the air as the Happy Mask Salesman retrieved a small woodwind instrument from the haversack. It looked like a fat, tan flute. Once again ignoring Link's questions, he sat down next to the bag and whistled through the instrument. A faint, mellowing tune breathed through the air and warmed Link's heart; he almost forgot what he had just asked.

"This is an ocarina," said the Happy Mask Salesman. He took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, wiped the mouthpiece, and looked up at Link. "I want you to have it. I thought about giving you one of my masks, but right now, the only face you need is your own."

Deciding to test his legs, Link set down the tankard with the tea and shimmied his way out of the blankets. He hesitated, and then pushed himself up from the ground. His legs didn't hurt, but they felt weak. Link thought he could fall over at any moment. The Happy Mask Salesman reached out with the ocarina in hand, and Link slowly made his way over. When he reached out for the instrument, the salesman pulled back. That stagnant smile was no longer there.

"My home is in a distant land, and it is an even more distant memory," he said quietly, "I've collected many masks in my travels, and some, in spite of what may seem commonsense, are more dangerous than others. My quest is confidential, and I ask that you respect my words. If you wish to repay me a favor, then please consider this: do not follow me, keep away from the shadows, and above all…" He paused for a moment and then smiled. "…believe in your strengths. Believe."

The ocarina fell into Link's hands. He pushed it into his pocket and tried to avoid eye contact as he made his way back to the nest of blankets. Those ominous words repeated in his mind, over and over. Link had never been so spooked—and so intrigued—in his entire life. For the first time, his mind drifted away from his friends in Hyrule Castle; he thought about the Happy Mask Salesman and his "confidential quest". What had he meant by "keep away from the shadows"? What distant land did he call home? What dangerous masks was he seeking out?

Link's throat desperately sought warmth. He picked up the tankard and downed the rest of the tea; the scent of orange filled his mouth and nose. Fatigue hit him almost immediately; it seized his limbs and added weight to his eyelids. The blankets and the snow suddenly felt as soft as ferns, and they begged him to lie down and shut his eyes. Before he knew it, his head had hit the earth. The Happy Mask Salesman laughed from the other side of the fire. Link could see him dismantling the skewer and placing his things back into the haversack. Everything started to blur, but Link forced his eyes to stay open.

"I'm afraid I've piqued your interest just a smidge too much, young Link," said the salesman, "the tea should help you rest. Unfortunately, I can't have you following me." He walked in front of the fire and took a bow. "I wish you best of luck on your quest. I'm sure our paths will cross once again."

Darkness fell.

* * *

When Link awoke, his health had returned and it was no longer snowing. Although a cold chill still bit the air, the mid-day sun was out and sent shimmers across the grounded snow. The Happy Mask Salesman was nowhere to be seen; he had taken the empty tankard, the skewer, and the pressure cooker, but he had left behind Link's sword and shield as well as a small scroll. After stomping out the rest of the fire and dressing himself in his equipment, Link sat on his makeshift bed and opened the scroll.

 _You wanted to know how I healed you_ , the letter read. Link recognized the calligraphy as Modern Hylian. _Music is sometimes the best medicine._

Beneath the note was a rough sketch of a musical spreadsheet. As Link read it over, he fished the ocarina out of his pocket. The tune on the scroll was a fairly simple one; it wouldn't take too much trial and error to play it on the ocarina.

There were a few more sentences written below the music: _Be wary of its power. Like words, a few notes is all it takes to save a life… or condemn one._

Link reread the entire scroll several times before folding it and placing it in his pocket along with the ocarina. Then, he rolled up the blankets, strapped them to his back, and made his way out of the crater.

As he reached the ravine leading up and out, he turned around to take one more look at the Great Deku Tree. The trunk was gray—a sad reminder of what had once been healthy, brown bark. Its fallen branches littered the crater like mortared bricks, and the evergreen leaves had long since rotted away. In the springtime, tall grass transformed the dim crater into a verdant meadow, but now that the Deku Tree was dead, perhaps the grass would not sprout this year.

Link was reminded of his quest. The forest needed him. He climbed up the ravine and headed south toward the Deku Palace.


End file.
